http://slow.writerscafe.org/DonaldParis The original writings of author Donald Paris en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775986009 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 This is a piece of fiction. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/593510/ I’mfrom these old streets.With the crunch of the gravel under myfeet,I see old and new ,Buildings, parks, projects of wastedrevenue.It’s near villainous .Sidewalks paved with allsorts of sins and sadness.I’m from destroyeddreams.Scattered, like valiant warriors af.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592707/ Alone, a boy stoodIn the middle of a parking lot.He was the only Thing there, as darkness fell.He was just as motionless as the Decaying cars and buildings Around him. Wind blew pieces Of broken pebbles around him.He jumped as thunder And lightening roll.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592704/ As I sat on the wall, she drew, The attention of my sad, brown eyes. She was really stunning in silk. A marine blue dress, moving, Like the water it resembled. I flashed a friendly smile. Blinded by the desperation In my teeth, she ignored me. I had forgotten about her, Or tried to. Her dress h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592701/ Orangeflorescent light streamsThroughmy window castingShadowybars on my bed.Theheat becomes a prison guard,Burningmy body with fieryBlows,he rains down all over me.Apool of sweat surrounds me,Splashingup against my bodyLikesaltwater on a beachWashing.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592696/ FreemontSchool sat across fromAgraveyard; filled with Flowersand dead soldiers.Bothwere fresh and bright red.Thechildren play.Starflowersand Spring BeautiesMigratefrom Freemont SchoolTograves, plucked by tiny handsDarkenedby native dirt.The.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592542/ It was a red dilapidated barnWith rotted wood and rusted shingles That he was proud of most.It had a face like his.Beaten by the vines of treesAnd warped by the never ending rain.A Nor'easter rolled through. Violent drops pounded roofs.Wind ripped through shutter.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592541/ Itwas a promise of summerThatkept her coming back.Sunshine,fledgling dreams of amberFields. Her hair, tiny strands of black, Flies.She runs through acres. Itwas the promise of summerAnda field of starsThatlovers mummer. Notesof a guitar fueledh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592539/ A non rhyming pantoum http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592535/ Pinned down by a volley of rainbows.Mortar rounds rip through men.Their tears puddle on the groundCarving out tiny canyonsWhile they still dodge rounds.Bodies scattered by the wrath ofelders.Crying and screaming for a savior.A rally is needed.Charging toward the lin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DonaldParis/592534/